


Angels and Sinners

by Vanemis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adopted Raphael, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Caretaking, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Instead of going to prison, M/M, Michifer - Freeform, Multi, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sam and Dean stay with a family, Sam is 16, Sibling Incest, Trans Raphael, dean is 20, john goes to prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8928604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanemis/pseuds/Vanemis
Summary: Instead of being sent to prison for illegal, well, everything, Sam and Dean are put into the care of Father Shurley. They have to work in the church where Dean meets Castiel, one of the local boys who's struggling with accepting himself.In the meantime, the two eldest sons, Michael and Lucifer, are trying to cope with hiding their incestuous relationship from their family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, Nathaniel here with another fanfic!
> 
> I've honestly no idea where exactly this story is heading, but I wanted to write something with religious Mickey and Luci, so I did. This will contain smut eventually and proper Destiel so stay tuned :)
> 
> UPDATE: Although I described Michael originally as having black hair/brown eyes, he actually looks like Adam Milligan!! He's not the young John Winchester (Matt Cohen) but Adam (Jake Abel).

The drive to Roseburg, Oregon takes five hours, which is filled with old country songs that makes Dean groan in agony. He prefers rock, especially the oldies where the lyrics describe pretty ladies or cities overflowing with booze and cash, like it rains down from the sky. He wants to live like that; women hanging off his arm, bottle of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette between his lips. Girls love that badass rockstar look.

Dean can’t have that. He never will, because his life will forever be on the road, hunting monsters and drifting from town to town, blowing all his cash on gas and cheap diner food. Same goes for his baby brother. Only sixteen and stuck in a constant limbo of danger. It’s not his fault, though. Poor Sammy just had a bad start to life. Maybe he could be different one day, get away from hunting things that go bump in the night. Maybe he’ll go to college, settle down and have two and half kids or some shit like that.

 

Johnny Cash is still crooning on the old radio. It’s not as though the music is bad _per say_ , but that’s all that seems to play on that station and Dean is fucking sick of it. Yet he can’t exactly ask the driver to move the dial until Led Zeppelin blares out instead.

The reason he can’t is because the driver isn’t his dad. Dean’s got no idea what his first name is. He _really_ should, considering the short priest will be his guardian for the next year.

 

That’s right. Guardian.

 

Dean and his little brother, Sammy, are being sent off to be looked after by another family. Not some hunters Dad picked out of the phonebook, not Uncle Bobby, no, just a random family that runs the local church. Yeah, they’re religious. Like ‘crucifixes on the wall of every room’, Bible-thumping, God-fearing people.

It’s not like Dean has anything against people of faith, hell, he’s heard Sammy say his prayers before bedtime almost every night since the kid could speak. It’s just that now he can’t do what he does best; drinking, cheating at pool and spending most of his time at bars.  
Hell, he’ll probably get a _curfew_.

 

The old pickup slows down before turning off the main road that runs through the town into a small dirt trail lined with thin trees. On either side are meadows, a few horses here and there and that’s about it. The sky is grey, darkening quickly in the February afternoon. It’s probably freezing outside too; there’s snow left over on the grass where the cattle hasn’t trampled it into the mud.

There’s not much to look at and Dean glances at the driver. He saw him in court, dressed in his clerical shirt and black slacks. He’d only noticed because he was the only one wearing such dark colours when everyone else was in a grey suit or casual, outdoor clothes. Moral support, that’s what he’d imagined him to be there for. But after the trial finished up and the verdict was given, John’s lawyer had walked over to the priest and taken him to the tearful brothers.

  
"This is Father Shurley. He will be your legal guardian until the Judge lifts your sentence. I'll be in touch when that happens."

That was all the stern lawyer had said before going off to do some boring paperwork. She’d only been sent by the state, since John couldn’t afford a real lawyer that would help him. Now he was going to spend ten years in prison for all those fake I.D’s and unregistered guns in the back of the Impala.  
It was a pretty light sentence to be honest. Not that anyone was happy with it.

 

Their father would be gone. For ten whole fucking years.

 

Dean barely managed to keep himself from punching anyone in sight in the last week and now he’s trying to keep it together for Sammy. Even if his dad and brother never saw eye-to-eye, the kid was shaken up and terrified that he might never see his dad again.

Thankfully, Bobby took care of the Impala so she wouldn’t end up crushed into a cube. Currently she was parked in one of the garages on Bobby’s property, stripped of all weapons the Police had found.

The boys can’t stay with Bobby. The judge thinks the brothers need a safe, clean home away from any kind of family. It doesn’t make sense. Dean fought back, screamed until the police officer had to force him back down. There was no way Uncle bobby would be allowed to take care of them, not after the childcare services went over his house. They didn’t find any weapons, Bobby was too smart for that. But the mess of cars, old ‘unsafe’ residence and the fact that Bobby told them to ‘fuck off and just bring the boys here’…

It wasn’t fair. None of it was. But it was either live with the strangers for a year, maybe stay longer or move on to some other place, or Sammy goes into the system for two years and maybe go into a foster home but at his age it was unlikely. Plus Dean goes to prison for five years. The choice wasn’t hard.  
After a few years, if the judge wanted, Dean would be allowed to become Sam’s legal guardian and they could live on their own, but they have to get through this first.

In the meantime, the brothers are to help out with the church and work on the attached farm. At least they were both used to manual work.

 

Dean tried to escape, had Sam by his side just as they had their chance to leave but the officers had caught them at the last second, just unlocking a back door. They got placed into separate cells until the trial. Sammy hasn’t spoken a word since the verdict was given. He’d screamed, cried out for his dad even after he’d been taken away. After that he fell silent, refusing to speak even to Dean.

 

Not wanting to carry on reminding himself of that awful Tuesday, Dean actually his attention to the priest.

Father Shurley is an average looking guy. Short brown curly hair and a kept beard, deep brown eyes that seem exhausted if the dark marks beneath them are anything to go by. His hands flex on the leather-wrapped wheel unconsciously every now and again.  
He notices Dean staring and smiles at him, before turning his attention back to the bumpy road in front of the rusted pickup.

“We’re here, boys.” Father Shurley announces, voice light like he didn’t believe taking care of two delinquents wasn’t a chore. He seems fairly neutral on the subject, had approached the case with the idea to help the boys out instead of having them sent to prison. Well, Dean would have been. He’s twenty now and some of those I.D’s had his photo. Sam would have been taken elsewhere, alone and scared, and some part of Dean was eternally grateful that they’d been accepted together.  
Father Shurley must have made a strong case to keep them.  
It was just hard to keep that in mind.

 

* * *

 

The house comes into sight. It’s a large, grey and white building that seems to glow a little despite the lack of sunshine. A wide porch spans the length of the front, tall wooden pillars attach from it to the sloped tilled roof that extends from the main part. There are potted plants dotted everywhere, as though someone keeps moving them.

A few cars are parked in front. Some old trucks that seem completely out of commission and others that seem as though they barely even work. Dean could probably set them right if he could just get his hands on a toolbox. He can see the tail-end of an orange Mustang behind a shed. At least somebody’s got good taste, though it looks out of place in the foggy, dreary landscape.

The pickup stops, after Father Shurley picks a spot by a wooden gate. Dean can see that there are more buildings behind the house, likely part of a farm or something, since they passed horses before. Guess he’ll be working there as well as the church.

Beside him, Sam stirs awake and groans from the cramped space he slept uncomfortably in. He’s tall and lanky right now, just hit a growth spurt, and soon he’ll be taller than Dean, which scares him a little. He’s the older brother, he should be the tallest.

Father Shurley cuts off the engine and removes the keys. There’s a bottle opener hanging off that looks well worn and Dean is rather surprised to see it there. Weren’t these people against alcohol or something? He’d heard plenty of stories about how strict they were. Thankfully, his dad wasn’t like that. He was harsh sometimes, but it was for their safety.

“Alright, come on then. We’ll go inside for now, get you boys set up and then my sons can show you around. Don’t worry, I think you’ll like ‘em.” Father Shurley adds with a grin when Sam and Dean frown at the same time.

Of course there would be kids here. Dean just hadn’t thought too much about it. He kinda had other things on his mind.

They both follow the priest up to the house, leaving their bags in the car after Father Shurley informs them someone will take care of it.

Now that he’s closer, Dean can see the paint is chipping and the wood had plenty of termite holes. The windows are clean though, and inside it looks comfy and inviting.  
He hates it already.

  
Father Shurley struggles to get the door open, fiddles with his set of keys before finally sighing heavily as it unlocks and swings on old hinges. The warmth floods out, hits Dean like a wall because outside, it’s freezing and he’s almost shivering on the spot.

They enter together, and pull off their shoes, leaving them on a muddy mat before carrying on into the house. It smells clean, and there’s something sweet coming from the kitchen that reminds Dean of apple pie. The brothers are led into a sitting room, with red couches that are incredibly comfy once Dean takes a seat. The décor is pretty basic; mahogany furniture, family photos, trophies from various sport teams. Surprisingly, no crucifix. Huh.

“Would you boys like anything to drink, eat?” The priest asks, hovering by the doorway that leads into the kitchen.

  
“No thanks.” Dean answers for the both of them, seeing as his brother doesn’t even bother to look up at the question.

Father Shurley nods, and goes to the kitchen anyways. He talks to somebody and when he comes back with a mug of coffee, there’s a teen following him.

Dean looks up at the smirking kid, smirks in return because he can tell just from one glance that this kid will mean trouble. He’s seen plenty of his kind before. Overconfident, smartass… just like Dean himself. The teen takes a seat on the couch opposite the one the brothers are sat on. There’s two armchairs on either side to fill the gap. How big is this guy’s family?

“Dean, Sam, this is my youngest son, Gabriel. Gabe, meet the Winchester brothers.” Father Shurley introduces them, taking a long sip and relaxing back into one of the armchairs with his legs crossed at the ankles.

“Hiya.” Gabriel gives a small wave, his voice is light like he’s trying not to laugh. Yeah, Dean knows this kid is going to be a little shit.

“Hey.” He answers, because, despite everything, he’s got manners and he doesn’t want to get on their bad side so quickly.

Sam looks up briefly, nods in Gabriel’s direction but remains silent. Maybe he thinks that if he’s quiet enough, they won’t notice him.  
Father Shurley doesn’t seem to mind, but Gabriel raises an eyebrow.

“Not much of a talker then, huh?” He laughs a little at the end. Does he think this is a fucking joke? He hasn’t lost his damn father!

Dean’s fists clench by his side and he counts to ten in his head, hoping that he can go an hour without punching the kid. Hell, an hour is pretty astonishing considering the teen’s smirking even more now.

“Gabriel, where are your brothers?”

“Dunno.” Gabriel shrugs, earning a heavy sigh from his father and a roll of his eyes.

“Well, go find them…” Father Shurley waves his hand dismissively. He seems really tired. Maybe dealing with that punk is the cause.

Gabriel heaves himself up from the couch with way too much effort considering his small, thin frame. He’s gotta be Sammy’s age, maybe a year older. He’s got hair like Sam too, except it’s more blond than brown.  
He leaves without protest and Dean can hear him jog up the stairs before his footsteps fade.

 

* * *

 

 

**Upstairs**

  
The bed creaks and protests loudly under Michael’s weight. His younger brother is stood by the end, smirking, hands still outstretched from pushing the eldest backwards onto the queen.

“Luc!”

“What?”

Michael opens his mouth but the blond silences him with a kiss. He’s still not used to how direct and demanding Lucifer can be. He’ll probably never get over it considering that it’s already been two years since they started this and from the beginning, his brother hasn’t changed a bit. The funny things that can happen from receiving a dick pic from his brother by accident.

It feels good when Luc is just hovering over him, still standing beside him, but when he crawls between Michael’s spread legs and settles his weight over him…  
It just doesn’t get better. Well, it can, but they don’t have the time for that today. They have guests coming, and they will be staying for a long time.  
Lucifer is angry. Of course he is.

The room he shares with Michael won’t be his for an entire year. Knowing his brother, he’ll probably burn the bed afterwards and get a new one, or maybe he’ll just use Michael’s considering he sleeps there every night.

Lucifer will sleep in the spare room with the youngest of the two guests. Samuel Winchester, or something like that. Michael will have the oldest here, and he’s not looking forward to it, but it’s his father’s wish to make the guests feel more included. Lucifer thinks it’s so that they can keep an eye on them, and Michael couldn’t agree more but he won’t voice his opinion. He knows better.

  
Above him, Lucifer has noticed that his focus isn’t on kissing him so he bites sharply on Michael’s lower lip, hard enough to sting but not draw blood. They have to be careful. Only Gabriel knows and that one person too much for Michael’s liking. It’s also the reason he locks the bedroom door whenever it’s just himself and Lucifer.

“Ow…” Michael groans. He doesn’t like it too rough, and his brother loves anything that turns painful and bloody.  
Lucifer chuckles and licks over the sting, easing it with the two forks of his tongue. That’s also something else only he and Gabriel know. Father would be livid if he found out.

Lucifer starts to move his hips in circles, grinding his cock against Michael’s through layers of denim. It feels so good, but they have to stop soon. There’s no time for sex. Michael was busy all day tending to the church in the morning and Lucifer seems to be allergic to waking up earlier than noon. Somebody will come up soon and they’ll have to meet the new people staying with them. Michael hasn’t been told why they are here, just that his father offered to take them in. Lucifer doesn’t bother to hide his anger. But at least he’s looking forward to messing with them until they run out and never come back.

“Luc, come on…We have to be decent for when we come down.” Michael reminds him. His hands try to hold his brother’s hips still but he just can’t quite make himself do so.

“Five more minutes…” Lucifer whispers against his clean-shaven jawline; the opposite of his brother’s scruffy stubble that drags across his skin. He’s nothing like his brother, even though they share a few physical similarities. Michael has dark blond hair, Luc has a lighter shade, more ashy. His own eyes are blue, his brother’s are grey. Lucifer is taller than him despite being younger by four years, and he's stronger too from working outside at the farm. 

“You said that five minutes ago.” They both laugh quietly against each other’s lips because it’s true. They just don’t want to let go of each other just yet.

It will be a whole year filled with sneaky kisses and maybe a few, occasional quickies in the barn.

_Knock, knock._

“Mickey. Luci. Dad wants you to come meet the new guys.” It’s Gabriel, their youngest brother and the second most mischievous. He took to Lucifer as a kid and now he’s just as bad.

“We’ll be down in a second.” Michael puts on his strict, brotherly voice, hoping that the waver isn’t too obvious. Lucifer is still grinding against him after all. Just because Gabriel knows, Michael refuses to flaunt. Hell, Gabriel would probably try to copy Lucifer and join them. He’s already ruined one brother for life…  
Said brother is slow to move, reluctant to part but Michael shoves at his chest hard enough for him to finally get off and correct his clothing.

Michael stands too, adjusts the fitted slacks that he still hasn’t changed out of from this morning. At least the clerical black shirt is folded up on the chair by the corner. He’s just wearing a navy button-down that seems to drive Lucifer insane. It’s just clothing to him but if his brother appreciates his appearances, he’s gonna try and wear it as often as possible.

Lucifer, again, looks like the perfect opposite of him. Skinny black jeans that are ripped along the knee and some random white tee he found in the laundry basket. It probably isn’t even his.  
He quickly glances in the mirror in the en suite bathroom and Michael can see him purposefully messing his hair up. Stylish, that’s what he calls it. Michael’s own hair is slicked back and he makes sure it’s all in place before unlocking the bedroom door and walking down the corridor.

Lucifer is following, never too far behind. He’s always been like that, especially after their mother died. Father never quite recovered and when she passed away, overdosing on sleeping pills, he had lived in a bottle for years, letting Michael practically raise his brothers. Lucifer had latched on to him at some point and never quite let go, even now.

 

  
The sitting room is filled with low voices; his father and one of the guests. As Michael enters, he immediately notices the scruffy looking blond on the couch and a tall, brown haired boy who seems to be debating running or crying on the spot. Michael feels bad for him, but he doesn’t know what happened to them to make them look so miserable. Maybe if he knew, he could talk to the kid and cheer him up a little. There’s plenty of kids in the town who come to him for help and someone to talk to.

“-And Sam, you’ll be staying with Lucifer. I’m sure you two will get along just fine. Oh, there they are. Sam, Dean, these are my eldest sons, Michael and Lucifer. Say hi, boys.”

Dean turns in his seat to glance at the doorway where two older boys are walking through. Michael, the one he’s sharing a room with, seems tense, measured. He nods at his father, and then extends a hand for Dean to shake, which he does. The guy does the same to Sam, but gets no response.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Michael says before sitting down on the couch opposite and politely folds his hands in his lap. “My name is Michael. I take care of our local church when father is busy, so I’ll be showing you how everything works in due time.  
“Dean, I’m sure my father has already told you, but you will stay in my room. Your bed is already made and I believe Raphael is bringing your bags up for you.” He finishes and sits back comfortably before looking back up at the doorway where his brother is still waiting.

Father Shurley only just seems to notice and sighs into his mug. “Sit down, Lucifer.” Maybe this one is the reason the priest is so tired, Dean thinks as he watches passively as the blond makes his way across the room and lazily drape himself on the couch beside Michael, arms extended over the back rest.

Michael doesn’t seem to mind, almost ignoring Lucifer’s purposeful attitude. He’s doing just to wind up his father and embarrass him in front of the guest, or is it because he wants to scare the newcomers? Michael can’t remember. His brother ranges from a simple sweet country kid to sociopathic creep. There’s hardly any grey area to be found.

“Alright, well, now I’m gonna let you choose if you wanna go up to your rooms and relax there for a bit until dinner, or if you want a tour of the place. We’ll discuss your duties later tonight.”

“I think we’ll check our rooms first. Maybe see the rest later.” Dean says, staying sat down until Michael stands up first. It seems to Dean like Michael’s the second in charge, maybe the one actually running the family. He was too tired to really think about it, though.

“I’ll show you both the way. Lucifer, could you please help Gabriel with the horses?” Michael asks, his voice noticeably softer and less formal when he addresses his younger brother. The blond surprisingly nods, gets up and leaves the kitchen back door all in a few seconds, without a word but he's secretly glad to get away.

Father Shurley sighs again for the hundredth time but does nothing, preferring to clasp the ‘World’s greatest dad’ mug tightly in his thin hands. Dean decides to leave the guy alone unless he absolutely has to talk to him. He turns to Sam, but his brother has his eyes glued to the plain faded rug.

Maybe after everything settles down, Sammy will open up again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean spend the evening with the Shurleys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos. They mean so much to me, and it's fantastic to see all the positive feedback.  
> Now here's a (super long) Christmas present for you all <3 Merry Christmas everybody!

Michael believes himself to be a good son; always obeying his father’s orders without question because that’s what he was raised to do.

When he was three years old, his mother and father came home from the hospital with their newborn. His father had called the child Lucifer, after the Archangel and whilst their neighbours and usual flock had protested against the name, Michael saw it’s true meaning. It was said that Lucifer was the most beloved angel and the most beautiful in all of Heaven, and his little brother was just that. Sweet and full of life, with bright blue eyes and an eagerness that no amount of telling-off could stop.

From day one, Lucifer only paid attention to Michael. He let himself be held by his parents, but the moment they put him down, he always crawled or stumbled over to his big brother. Eventually, Lucifer became quite a handful and with their parents struggling to keep the church going, he was left to Michael’s care.  
At ten, Michael wasn’t exactly too interested in baby-sitting the seven-year old, but it was his father’s wish. There was no way he could disappoint him, his father already had plenty of people turn his back on him like Auntie Amara. Her fight with father had ended brutally and Michael had not heard from her in over twelve years now.

Raphael had come along two years later, but she wasn’t actually blood related. When Michael’s mother had volunteered in Nigeria as part of a charity campaign to raise money for schools and churches over there, Raphael’s biological mother had died in childbirth. Considering the lack of decent hospitals and general discard for orphans in the area, since her father was unknown, Michael’s mother had adopted the child.   
At the time, Raphael had been male, but over the years things had changed, and she admitted one night over dinner that she wanted to be female. No one had spoken for a few minutes before their mother smiled and everyone just kind of accepted it. Raphael kept her name, though, as a memory to her adopted mother’s eternal kindness.   
She hadn’t really talked to her brothers as much after their mother died and now she preferred to stay by herself, minding her own business and staying mostly around the animals. Michael was the only one to ever truly talk to her these days. When Lucifer was being especially annoying or rude, then Raphael kept her distance. Those two never really got along anymore. Gabriel was also usually too loud and obnoxious for her to keep up with his over energetic behaviour.

The last child was Gabriel, a year after Raphael. He was the splitting image of Lucifer and he certainly behaved the same, which wasn’t helped by the second born’s attitude and his love for pranks and jokes.   
Michael was barely able to keep up with him, always amazed at how Gabriel could be so full of life despite everything that had happened. Every one took to calling him a ‘trickster’ since he was known for pranking just about everybody at school and sometimes even churchgoers. He’d once swapped some Bibles in the church for some heavy gay erotic writing, even going as far as stitching the pages into the Bibles. Of course, he’d gotten grounded for three months but only after their father had stopped laughing and Michael had apologised five hundred times to the offended townsfolk.  
That had happened only a year ago.

  
His mother, Mariana, had married young and divorced young. She’d grown up in Indiana, working as a waitress when Chuck had come through town. He was travelling with his father and uncle, checking out towns that needed God, except Chuck hadn’t cared much for that at the time.  
He’d been young, and offered to help Mariana with her problems, letting her know that she could talk to him any time. He’d given her the church’s number and after two months, she’d called up crying.

Chuck had driven, well, _stolen_ , his uncle’s car and drove hours until he reached her home. He’d found her on the front porch crying. Michael has no idea what his father had done but it had landed Mariana’s abusing husband in hospital. The divorce came soon after, and she moved to Roseburg where they married years later and carried on with God’s work at the local church.

  
Everything was great. The church got enough funding yearly from the town council since Chuck’s sermons were very popular in Oregon, the house had just gotten an extension and the farm was producing enough food that they could support themselves easily. Not that they did, since selling the produce brought them plenty.  
It was just after Michael had started college in Washington, D.C when he received a phonecall from Lucifer.

 

Their mother was dead.

 

Nothing had led up to it. She apparently overdosed on sleeping pills one day and Chuck had found her in the bedroom, dead on the bed. The only she’d left behind had been a note saying, ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’. No one knew what happened, and the tragedy had caused Michael to quit college and return home where he took care of his younger siblings and his father.  
That was five years ago, and the family was only just starting to readapt. Throughout it all, Michael had kept his head up, only grieving when he was alone so he couldn’t burden the others when they had their own issues.

He found out that his method didn’t work out so well. Everyone thought he needed to let it out, and only Lucifer managed to get through to him. Another reason why he admired and loved his little brother. 

 

* * *

 

Glancing over at the bed over against the far wall, Michael frowns. The wall that had only yesterday been covered in band posters and notes, and scribbles is completely bare. Well, Lucifer’s little drawings are still there since the wall hasn’t been painted over, but it all seems too empty now.  
The action figurines, the swimming trophies from high school, hell, even the vinyl player is gone, along with the boxes under his bed. No one would want Dean to find Lucifer’s cigarettes or his porn mags.

On the bed is Dean. He’s sat with his duffel bag on the floor next to the chest of drawers that doubles as a nightstand.  
His back is against the headboard and he seems to be staring mindlessly at the wall in front of him. After Michael led him upstairs forty minutes ago, the kid hasn’t moved. Well, Dean’s not a kid. His father informed him of the boys’ ages before they arrived but Dean’s acting like a child.

Maybe Michael’s being too tough on him.

He should at least try to talk to him. Say anything. He’s already introduced himself earlier downstairs so it’s Dean’s turn, but the blond hasn’t made a single move since taking the spare bed. Michael even took a quick shower in the meantime and nothing had changed.

Michael’s getting tired of this, so he gets up and leaves the room to check on the younger Winchester. That kid seemed in a really bad place. Sam and Lucifer’s room is just down the hall, three doors down away from the staircase. His little brother must still be out because there’s no metal blasting from his I-pod dock that he refuses to part with.

 

Michael knocks politely on the door, and a second later, Sam opens it gingerly, peeking through the gap like some scared child despite the almost six foot of awkward teenage lankiness.

“Hello Sam. How do you like the room?” Sam looks uncomfortable, glances down nervously to try and avoid answering but he’s the one who opened the door. Surely he knew that someone wanted to talk to him.

  
Sam doesn’t look like he’s gonna answer anytime soon, so Michael does what he does best: comfort troubled kids.

“Hey, Sam, listen. I don’t know what you and Dean have been through, but I guess it’s pretty bad. I can’t promise that you’re going to like it here or that this place is going to make everything suddenly better, but what I can promise you is that I will listen to you. I work with a lot of kids in town, some from rough backgrounds, so if you ever just wanna talk, go ahead. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, if you need me, I’ll be there.”

Sam’s eyes widen in surprise. It’s the last thing he expected from the confident man but it’s nice to hear. No one’s ever offered something like that except Dean and talking to him can be impossible sometimes.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, voice hoarse from the lack of use for the past week and a half. Sam adds a small smile at the end because he means it, and Michael returns it since he’s clearly happy to hear Sam talk.

  
It’s not like Sam trusts any of them, he’s been raised better than that, but his brain’s pretty jumbled right now so he lets it pass for now. Plus he’ll be staying here a while until they can run away. Dean’s probably thinking of a plan already, steal one of the cars outside and drive over to Bobby’s…

“No problem. I’ll knock when it’s time for dinner, so just relax until then. I’m not sure when Lucifer will be back-”

“Is that his real name?” Sam asks, surprising Michael with the odd question. Everyone in town knows the blond’s name so being asked is a little weird since strangers aren’t common here. He laughs it off though.

“Yes. Yeah. After the angel. In fact, we’re all named after angels around here, even a few cousins. It runs in the family.” He admits with a smile, proud of his father’s influence over their large misfit family.

“It’s kinda cool, _I guess_.” Sam says with a tone that suggests he doesn’t think so.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that…” Michael jokes. Sam decides he likes the eldest brother, definitely friendlier than Gabriel.  
“Alright, I’ll get out of your hair.” With that Michael retreats and heads to another part of the house to check in on his mischievous siblings.

 

* * *

 

Sam closes the door quietly, leans back against the oak wood and sighs heavily. It feels like everything’s an insane spiral, actually, more like a rollercoaster and losing his father was the terrifying drop that made him dizzy and sick.

It all happened so quickly that Sam struggles to recall the events properly, memories fuzzy and the only constant thought in his head is that he’s lost his father. Despite all the fighting and arguing, Sam loves his dad. Of course he does. He just hadn’t said it in so long that he wasn’t sure John even remembered the last time he heard it.

One minute they’re hunting a basic, textbook haunting and the next, cops are breaking down the motel door and raiding their car, pulling out all the guns and placing them in ziplock bags. Sam’s sure one of the cops wanted to send him immediately to prison judging from his disgusted look, but Dean and dad fought back in his defence. ‘He’s too young’, ‘just a boy’, all that crap must have worked because here he was, still with Dean despite the judge’s initial sentence.   
Yeah, originally, Dean was meant to join John but Father Shurley had stepped in, asking that the sons be giving a second chance and that they could pay it back by working at the church. Hell knows what a Roseburg priest was doing in Cali…but Sam’s not complaining.

His silence had been partly intentional, at first he’d been terrified and then depressed and then a numbness had formed over his mind and emotions. But it hadn’t affected his awareness. He watched everybody around him, judging them and evaluating them.

 

The priest seems like a good man, and so does Michael. These people are just normal, and even if he might not have wanted a family like this, it’s nice to sleep in a house with a clean bed and friendly company. Not having to worry about monsters or when Dad would stumble drunk through the door, or whether or not Dean‘s temp work would bring enough money for them to eat at least one meal everyday.   
Sam is looking forward to a home cooked meal too. He’d never had one with Dean.

Thinking of Dean, Sam makes a promise to himself never to tell Dean he actually likes the house so far.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean waits until Michael leaves the room without a word. The older guy seems to expect a conversation but like hell is that happening. Once the room is empty, Dean bolts up and searches the drawers of the chest, finds nothing and moves on to the closet at the end of the bed, built into the left wall. A few boxes have been left there, covered in a thick layer of dust and words have been scribbled on the lids: Luc’s school paperwork, 2005-2009 photos, camping trip, ect. 

It’s all boring crap that Dean gives zero fucks about so he moves to the opposite side of the room and searches Michael’s area, finding far too many button-down shirts and clerical stuff and of course, a Bible in the top drawer.

Funnily enough, the top drawer has a false bottom and with ease, Dean pries the plywood off, revealing the hidden contents. Inside is a phone, simple and fully touch screen but it’s obviously one that Michael doesn’t want anyone to find. Aside from that, there a few gay porn mags, photos of some naked guy whose face is cropped out, a pack of condoms and a black box that Dean’s certain he does not want to open.

“Hiding something, Michael?” Dean mumbles to himself, incredibly surprised to find such things in a goody two-shoes’ drawers and fully planning on using this information against Michael if he needs to. The fact that Michael is likely gay doesn’t bother him, Dean’s bi himself, but it’s the whole religious thing that makes him question this.   
_The guy’s probably in the closet_ , Dean thinks. Keeping this from his dad and brothers, except maybe that Lucifer guy. _What the hell kind of parent names his kid after Satan?_

Footsteps echo down the hallway and Dean rushes to put everything back in place, sitting back on the bed and acting all glum so that Michael won’t suspect a thing. But the door doesn’t open and the footsteps lead away down the stairs.

 

He really ought to check on Sam.

Dean goes over to his little brother’s new room, scowling at the pastel stripped walls of the hallway, and doesn’t bother knocking.

  
Sam is standing facing the bed, hands digging through his bag to grab some fresh clothes. He wants to look good at dinner, wants to make a good impression now that he has an idea who he’s dealing with, and if he can get closer to them, maybe he’ll be able to learn more about the family.   
The door swings open, and he spins around expecting it to be Lucifer but Dean is there instead. His brother is frowning but when is he not these days?

“Hey, Sammy… how you doin’?” Dean asks, closing the door behind him silently. He walks over to the kid slowly, ignoring how his brother is holding his best shirt, the only one that he keeps in his bag and doesn’t use on hunts.

Sam shrugs. “I’m okay. Better now.”

Dean releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, so relieved that Sam is talking once more. He isn’t sure why but he’s glad nonetheless. He sits on the bed beside the duffel, not bothering to ask since they’ve lived together so closely for so, so long that personal space is practically a nonexistent concept.

“Good. Good, listen, I’m gonna get us out of here, Sammy. Don’t you worry.” Dean reassures, reaching up to pat his little brother’s shoulder comfortingly.  
“You goin’ on a date, or sumthin’, Samantha?”

Sam scoffs and swats Dean’s head lightly with the shirt still in his hand.

“Wanna make a good impression.”

“Uh huh… tryna get close to ‘em?” Sam doesn’t need to answer, the look in his eyes tells Dean everything. “Good. I don’t trust ‘em.”

“You don’t trust anybody.” Sam points out, going back to his task of finding clothes without rips, or at least too obvious ones. It’s harder than he initially imagined.

“That’s not true! I trust you and Dad and Bobby. Plus these people are strangers and fucking weird. Father Shurley sure as hell wasn’t drinking coffee, that Gabriel kid is an ass, Lucifer’s fucking weird with that don’t-give-a-shit attitude and that Michael guy? Found gay porn in his stuff…”

“You went through his stuff?” Sam harshly whispers. Of course Dean would have done so, but still…

“Duh.” Sam shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes before he vaguely attempts to brush it back with his fingers.

“Right. I’m going to take a shower.”

Dean nods and lets his brother go through the second door in the room, which happens to be an adjoined bathroom much like the one in his and Michael’s room. It looks unused, much like the room itself.  
He looks around, taking note of his brother’s meagre belongings all shoved into one bag. His laptop is on the floor, finally charging after almost two weeks of sitting dead in the duffel. The police went through it, so it’s likely been completely wiped. That means Dean’s stash of porn is gone. Fuck.

 

 

The room is laid out almost identically to his own, with a second bed against the wall opposite Sam’s and still unused. Dean walks over to the other side, careful not to tread on any of the bags and boxes carelessly dumped beside the bed. 

Some of Lucifer’s stuff has been put up on the walls, like posters of metal bands and a framed photo of their whole family with a woman smiling holding the three boys Dean’s already met and small, black girl. Behind her is Father Shurley, grinning and with one arm around the woman’s waist.

“Put it back.” A cold voice speaks out. Dean hadn’t even heard the door open. He places the frame back on the nightstand and turns, eyes widening in surprise at just how angry Lucifer looks. His fists are clenched by his side and his body tense, but what shocks Dean is his eyes.   
They’re cold and menacing and Dean takes a defensive step back, moving back to Sam’s bed but Lucifer is still glaring icy daggers at him so Dean nods to himself and leaves the room, careful not to get too close to the blond.

  
Lucifer waits until he hears Michael’s bedroom door close to go over to the photo, and readjust its position. How dare that dick touch his stuff! Nosy fucker. Luc’s gonna have to be careful around him, that’s for sure.

He glances over at Sam’s pathetically small bag that contains his entire life. The shower is running so Sam’s occupied, which means Luc has time to snoop through the kid’s belongings. Yes, he realises what a hypocrite he is.

The duffel is thick, as though it contains extra lining, and Lucifer searches for anything that might be hidden there. Sadly there’s nothing, only clothes, a wallet with three dollars inside and a few family photos. That’s it.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Sam comes out of the bathroom, dressed in his nicest clothes, which happens to be a dark blue and black flannel that’s thick and soft and a pair of dark jeans that have seem pretty new compared to his other pairs.   
His hair is damp, clearly messily dried with a towel and then finger-combed into place. The strands are getting pretty long already, but Sam doesn’t want to cut it. It’s kinda nice to have longer hair than his father and brother, makes him seem different from them.

A quick glance across his room tells him that Dean has already left. Instead, Lucifer is there, lying back against the sheets of his own bed with his headphones on.   
Some metal song is playing and Sam can clearly hear it as he walks past to grab his duffel, zip it up and shove it under the bed close enough to the edge that he can blindly grab for it. It’s the kind of reflex that doesn’t die.

Sam glances at the clock, then up the door, willing Michael to come back and tell him dinner’s ready. He didn’t eat much during the trial and even before then, on the hunt he’d skipped a few meals so they had enough money for gas.

“Why are you staring at the door?” Lucifer calls out, moving the headphones to the side so he can hear what he’s saying so he doesn’t end up yelling. His music is loud but Sam can’t understand the lyrics from where he’s sat.

“No reason. Whatchu’ listening to?” Sam asks, hoping that Lucifer will ignore the swift change of subject. The blond says nothing, blinking at him before shrugging.

“Bring me the horizon. It’s a screamo band.” Now it’s Sam’s turn to blink rather stupidly. All he knows is old rock from the 70s and 80s, because that’s what his dad listens to and inherently, Dean.

“What’s screamo?” Instead of speaking, Lucifer unplugs the jack from his sleek, silver phone and music blares out. The singer is literally screaming. Sam’s about to complain but the screaming stops and the man actually starts singing with quite a nice voice. Lucifer smirks, and plugs the headphones back in.

“Like it?”

“Kinda. I liked when he actually _sang_. Can’t understand the rest.” Sam admits, sitting on the bed to face the blond, who’s still relaxing with his one of his arms folded behind his head and the other slumped across his stomach.

“Fair enough. Me too, actually. They’re pretty good, check ‘em out.” Lucifer nods his head towards the laptop on the floor. Sam follows his gaze and grabs the chunky piece of outdated tech, switching the thing on and setting it down beside him.

Eventually the homescreen loads up with only the basic applications, like Internet Explorer and some Word crap no one uses but it was already on the laptop when he found it dumpster diving.   
All his bookmarks and documents have been wiped clean. Literally years of research gone!

“Fuck!” Sam yells, slamming his palm down on the bed rather than the computer so he doesn’t smash it to bits.

Lucifer opens one eye but doesn’t move from his comfy spot. “Problem?”

“Nothing!” Sam winces after yelling at the blond. He didn’t mean to, but it’s all his work. He’s the one staying up late at night searching for info or scouring the library from 9-5 until he has everything he needs.

“Suuure.” Lucifer drawls, before swiftly swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. His headphones are dragged down to rest on his neck and his phone goes in his back pocket. He walks over to Sam and plops down next to him without asking. Sam watches him with wide eyes, surprised at the lack of personal space. Lucifer’s elbow is brushing his hip and the blond only settles himself more comfortably with a perfect view of the laptop.

“What’s up?”

“Everything got wiped.”

“Why?” Lucifer asks innocently and Sam debates telling him the Police did it because they were looking for incriminating information on there. It’s better that no one knows for now, easier to get weaved into the family if they don’t know why they all got arrested.

“Dunno. It’s an old piece of crap.”

“Sure is. Tell you what, I’ll get your stuff back for you at a price.”

“What do you mean, get it back? It’s gone.”

“Nope. Nothing’s ever really deleted unless the hard-drive’s completely swapped.” Lucifer says with a smirk, clearly happy to know more than Sam. Sam barely stops himself from rolling his eyes but deep down, he’s overjoyed at the news.

“What kind of price?” Of course, the guy wants something in return. Nothing’s ever free in life.

“Don’t know yet. It’ll come to me.” 

“Fine.” Sam agrees, because he _needs_ that research badly and he has no idea how to recover it. Whatever Lucifer wants, he can provide. He’s a Winchester, after all.

Lucifer smirks, though it seems more like he _never_ stops smirking. The guy’s got a mischievous look in his pale, grey eyes too which unnerves Sam.  
Suddenly, Lucifer shuffles off the bed and saunters over to his own side to grab his own, thin laptop which is clearly brand new. Sam has no idea where someone living in a place like this could have something so expensive, and he doesn’t think he wants to know.

“What are you…?” Sam asks uncertainly as he watches with mild interest as Lucifer skims through videos on Youtube. The titles pass in a blur but it’s all from the same band that performed the song he heard ten minutes ago.

“Here you go.”

The laptop is passed to him and Sam holds back his surprise at how light it feels in his hands. His own must weigh three times more. The screen is cleaner too and the keys actually work properly.

His attention then falls to the actual screen where Lucifer’s made him a playlist of music videos for him to listen to. It’s actually kind of him to do, which makes Sam wonder why Lucifer is being so nice.   
Maybe it’s just that Sam isn’t used to people outside his family caring for him so he might not be able to recognise a nice gesture. Either way he settles back on the bed, propping a pillow behind him since the wooden frame of the bed digs sharply into his back.

Sam ends up watching over two hours’ worth of their music and actually enjoying having the blond next to him, with his eyes closed and muttering the lyrics under his breath.

 

* * *

 

 

Michael comes upstairs to fetch them several hours, mostly to get Lucifer out of his new room that he’ll help in the kitchen. He’s more than surprised to see his brother beside Sam, watching something together. He denies to himself the jealousy that flares up inside him at the sight of them lying on the bed like that. It’s what he does with Lucifer whenever his little brother wants to share something funny with him, usually inappropriate.

Pushing down the sudden and rather frightening spark of anger until he can fake a smile, Michael informs Lucifer that’s he’s needed downstairs. His brother notices the change in Michael’s warm brown eyes but says nothing, extracting himself from the bed and waving goodbye at Sam before he disappears around the corner.  
Sam sits there, looking expectedly at Michael and the eldest son takes a second to gather his thoughts.

“Dinner will be ready soon. Would you like to follow me?” It’s not really a question and Sam’s got enough sense to notice the change in Michael’s suddenly clipped tone. He doesn’t understand why but nods anyways, putting the laptop on sleep before getting up and following the dark haired man.

  
As he walks down the hallway, he notices Dean’s door is open and there’s no one in there. It’s already gone dark outside, pitch black in the cold of mid-February, and the wind is whistling loudly. But inside it’s warm and cosy, the soft colours and golden lights provide a safe space and Sam finds himself relaxing. He hadn’t even noticed how tense he’d gotten.

Michael is just in front of him, a step ahead and leading the way down through another door that goes straight into a small dining room, where the mahogany table is already set with red placemats and silver cutlery. No one’s sat down yet and Sam can hear several people in the kitchen. Michael leads him in and Sam finally spots his big brother standing by the fridge, grabbing something out of it before passing it to Gabriel who’s busy adding the finishing touches to their meal.

Dean notices him out of the corner of his eye and gives Sam a brief, small smile before Gabriel grabs his attention again.

 

“Alright, you guys go sit down. Me and Deano got this.” Gabriel exclaims, earning himself a glare from Dean who doesn’t appreciate the nickname. Reluctantly Dean shuffles over to help carry some of the platters into the dining room.

“Come on, Sam.” Lucifer says, nudging the young boy with his elbow on his way out. Sam holds back from glaring, believing himself to be more polite than Dean, even if the urge to elbow him back is pretty strong.

So far, Sam likes Lucifer. He’s funny and actually kinda nice, and Sam definitely enjoyed spending those few hours chatting about music. Their tastes are pretty different in the sense that Lucifer knows more bands than Sam, and has more knowledge of current artists whilst Sam is limited to 70s rock. At least he’s a pro in that regard.

 

  
When Sam walks back into the dining room, Father Shurley is taking a seat at the end of the table. Sam nods at him and the priest smiles back, gesturing with his hand for Sam to sit down next to him.

“How do you like the place so far, Sam?” Father Shurley asks politely once Sam has tucked the chair closer to the table and settled down. Sam doesn’t think he should even bother to keep silent, it would only be rude at this point, and something tells him that Michael informed his father that Sam was speaking.

“It’s nice here.” Sam provides, unsure of _what_ to say. He’s not lying. It’s a lovely home, and two of the boys are great and it’s his chance to have a home cooked meal at a table for the first time in years. Last was at a girl’s house for Thanksgiving a long time ago.

Father Shurley nods. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. I hope my boys haven’t been too much trouble?”

Sam shakes his head, and Chuck smiles. 

The chair on his right scrapes across the floor and Sam turns to see Lucifer sitting next to him. The boy smirks once more but before Lucifer can say something, Gabriel and Dean arrive with the steaming hot food.

 

It’s just a simple roast with vegetables and Sam loves every bite He’s never really known the taste of chicken that hasn’t been deep-fried in some cheap diner so this is a treat for him, and when he’s done with his first portion, there’s nothing left on his plate.   
Sam glances at his brother opposite him, wondering just how Dean is taking all of this and he’s happy to see that Dean ate everything too, a greedy smile on his face when Gabriel passes him more food, who is sat next to him.

Raphael is sat between her brothers since Michael takes the other end of the table. She hasn’t said a word so far except a small hello to both Sam and Dean when she arrived. Her hair is loose, covering her face whenever she leans forward.   
Sam knows nothing about her but he can tell something’s made her so quiet and shy. He ought to ask Lucifer later.

  
“Alright, now that we’re not starving, Sam, Dean, I want to discuss your duties whilst you’re here.” Father Shurley speaks up, breaking up the chatter between the boys.   
“Now, as you know, Michael is also in charge of the church, so he’ll be showing you how everything operates and what you’ll be doing on the days coming up. It’s fairly easy if you look at it from a stranger’s perspective but honestly, it’s hard work.  
“The people that come are all locals who’ve been around for an age. If something happens in town, trust me you’ll hear all about it. So, you know, be social and be kind. The hardest part is comforting people. They will look to you for help and guidance and you need to be there for them. Either of you boys religious?”

Dean shakes his head but Sam nods, because he does believe in God and angels and Heaven. It’s helped him through the years, especially when things got tough in their family like a big fight with Dad.

“Alright, Sam, this will certainly be easier for you then. Dean, we’ll talk about this when you actually start work in the church but I’m gonna tell you this now; have an open mind.” Dean nods, not saying anything mostly because if he opens his mouth, he’s sure something unpleasant will come out. He doesn’t care for such beliefs and people who are desperate and don’t do anything for themselves piss him off. This was never a job on his bucket list.

 

“Now, for the time being, not that many people come to pray except a few devoted locals who’ve been here longer than God himself, so there’s not much to do. For now, I’ll expect you both to clean up around the place, reorganise books and make sure we have everything sorted for sermons the day before. I do mine on Sundays, and Michael on Wednesday. Now, I won’t ask you to do any sermons unless you want to so don’t worry about that. Same goes for confessions or any events we host. I will never put you guys under a spotlight, all right? Good.

“You’ll work on and off at the church. When you’re not over there, you’ll be tending to the farm. We’ve got horses, a few cows and some chickens so it’s pretty basic. We don’t kill any animals for food but we do sell the eggs and last year, one of our mares had twin foals and we sold them too.   
“The only crops we grow are vegetables and that’s about it. When the weather’s better, I’ll ask you to take care of the garden as well. Right now, everything’s pretty dead so you’ll only be caring for the animals. Lucifer and Raphael can show you all that. That sound good to you?”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam says, pleased that he’ll keep busy and that, considering their crimes, the punishment is incredibly light. Dean doesn’t seem to pleased, at the mention of working in the church but he doesn’t mind manual work.

“What about the cars out front?” Dean speaks up. Father Shurley turns to him, surprised that he would ask for more work. To him, it seems like plenty already.

“Do you know anything about engines?”

“Yeah. My Dad taught me everything I know, plus I’ve worked as a mechanic several times.” Chuck looks ecstatic at the news and he leans forward on his elbows.

  
“You know what? You fix up those cars, and I’ll reduce the hours you’ll work in the church.” Chuck offers, watching Dean light up at the suggestion. “Deal?”

“Absolutely. Deal.” Dean looks over the moon with this, and he’s still in a great mood by the time he’s finished helping Michael clean up the dishes. Gabriel is in the living room watching Jimmy Fallon with his father and Raphael.

“Thank you for volunteering. Those cars need plenty of work done on them, and we can’t afford to get a mechanic.” Michael says, voice lowered so that the rest of his family can’t hear.

“Seriously? You guys seem to be doing well…” Michael glances at Dean out of the corner of his eye and says nothing. He knows the family’s money situation and it’s not pretty.

Dean understands and nods to himself, putting some plates back into the cupboard. “Well, it’s no problem. I like working on cars. Got a 67 Impala.”

“Really? Well, I have absolutely no idea what kind of car that is…” Michael admits, laughing at Dean’s offended look. “Tell Lucifer. He loves cars. That obnoxious Mustang outside is his.”

“Of course it is.” They both laugh and Michael places one hand on Dean’s shoulder kindly before insisting that Dean should join them in the living room. Dean agrees and follows Michael, sitting beside the tall man on the couch, next to Sam who’s curled up against the leather arm, laughing along with the show.

It’s good to see his brother laugh and smile again. Maybe this place will do some good for both of them. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst Dean is working in the church, he meets a young lad by the name of Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you didn't see the update memo, Michael looks like Adam (Jake Abel) not young John (Matt Cohen). Sorry about the confusion. I thought it would make the similarities between Luci and Mickey even more interesting plus I find Jake incredibly attractive! >

The next morning, after a filling breakfast, Father Shurley drives Michael, Sam and Dean down to the church. The silence is thick and unending despite the soft country rock playing from the old stereo.

Chuck is angry, though he doesn’t show it, having learnt a long time ago to check his emotions in check around his own volatile father. He had trusted Dean around the kitchen and that had been a mistake. Maybe he’d been too trusting, too easily charmed by the kid’s eager attitude when he made the deal involving the cars last night, that he hadn’t even notice Dean slip a knife into his pocket.

 

* * *

 

**6 A.M Wednesday**

Chuck had been at the breakfast table in the kitchen, enjoying his morning coffee when he’d noticed he’d forgotten to grab a butter knife. He’d checked the drawer and realised one of the switchblade knives was missing, the one his sister had given to him on his sixteenth birthday. It had always had its place in the cutlery drawer, beside a few others he’d gathered over the years.

Michael had come down minutes later, already dressed for his morning service, his hair impeccably slicked back and shirt neatly tucked in. His eldest son was always the first to be up, aside from himself of course.

“Morning father.” Michael greeted, before getting himself some coffee out of the old French press.  
Before he sat down, he noticed his father still staring at the cutlery drawer and noisily rummaging through it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t find my knife. The one from Amara… You don’t think somebody stole it, do you?” Chuck wondered, mostly to himself, but Michael was already flying out of the room to ask Dean.

After all, only Dean had been in the kitchen yesterday long enough to steal it.

Michael walked straight into his room, finding Dean asleep on the bed, still wearing his jeans and tee shirt from yesterday. The man held back his disgust at such manners, and stepped towards the bed.

Dean tossed in his sleep, and when Michael brought his hand down to shake him awake, Dean sprung up, knife held in his hand steadily but it was clear that Dean had simply reacted on instinct. Michael took a few steps back, hands held up in defence, watching with concealed anger as Dean lowered the very knife his father had been looking for.

“So you _did_ steal it.” Dean took a moment to understand what Michael had said, before surprise crossed his face.

He hadn’t put a knife there at all.. Why would he have? That was a stupid idea! It was just reflex, there was always a knife or a gun under his pillow. He’d grabbed it, too sleepy to realise where he was or what he was even doing.

“I… didn’t…”

“What? Plan on getting caught? Give it to me.” Michael held his hand out impatiently. It was one thing for the local kids to steal from the church, but this was in his own house, goddammit.

Dean reluctantly folded the knife and placed it in Michael’s palm. He had stolen anything! He had no idea how Father Shurley would react to this, but right now, Michael was the one confronting him. The man was clearly pissed and Dean didn’t fight back when Michael grabbed his shirt and dragged him to his feet, too shocked to struggle.

There was no reason to steal it since it wasn’t even silver, just plain old steel. Monsters would laugh in his face if he brandished that. He’d tried to fit in yesterday as well, especially when he saw how happy Sam was.

 

His brother was clearly far more comfortable than he was, and Dean supposed that made it so much easier to pretend everything would be alright. Dean was exhausted; mentally rather than physically. But Sammy smiling and laughing along at dinner… that was the happiest Sam has been in a long, long time. Of course Dean had tried hard to blend in…  
Now he’d fucked it up. Father Shurley would be so pissed, maybe even kick them out! _No wait, no, he can’t, he can’t do that_ , Dean thought, _he has to keep us here for a whole year at least. We’re safe, it’s okay. It’s not my fault, it’s not!_

Whilst Dean had his internal panic, Michael had an iron grip on his shoulder, practically dragging him out of the room and down into the kitchen where Chuck was still searching for his knife. He let Dean go, almost throwing him down onto a chair in front of the priest. Some part of Dean was actually impressed at Michael’s strength. Dean was a tough guy, even at twenty.

  
“Mickey?” Lucifer mumbled sleepily, having woken up when Michael had made plenty of noise. He normally wouldn’t have woken up for another six hours. Sam had woken up too and was slowly making his way down the stairs, hoping no one would notice him peering through the banister.  
Lucifer did notice, but said nothing.

“Dean stole it.” Michael said in a clipped tone, setting the knife down onto the table in front of his confused father.

Chuck sighed, looking at the knife first and then at Dean, who was incredibly uncomfortable being watched by several people. The priest sat down opposite Dean, taking the knife and twisting in his seat to put it back in the drawer.   
When he turned back, Dean was clearly in a fight-or-flight situation. His eyes kept darting between the various doors and where the boys stood.

“Dean, look… I know this must all be very difficult for you, especially considering everything that’s happened with your father, but we need to work together here. This,” Chuck jerked his thumb towards the drawer, “this is not the right way. Tell me, why did you steal it?”

Dean gaped, not sure who to look at. “I didn’t steal it!”

“Alright, fine. Dean, I will give you one chance, and one chance only, to tell me why you felt the need to steal a knife. Are you scared we’ll hurt you? Is that it? Or were you planning to hurt us instead?”

“No! Of course not. Look, Padre, seriously, I didn't steal that knife.” Dean answered short of yelling hysterically, panicking when no one appeared to believe him. If the Shurleys thought he was out to harm them, it could mean being kicked out and sent to prison after all.

Chuck was about to speak, but Sam rushed in, freezing in the doorway like he hadn’t known where his legs were taking him. Lucifer raised an eyebrow and Sam spoke up, thinking rather similarly to Dean.

“It was for me. Dean stole it for me.” Sam stumbled out, hoping his lie was convincing enough. He’d had no idea Dean had done this and he was pretty angry at his big brother for being caught so damn easily. Of course, it was wrong to steal but Dean was a pro liar and he could take anything he wanted. Something was clearly wrong here, but it was better to get over this first.

“Sam… why?” Chuck actually looked disappointed, and it made Sam feel uneasy that someone else had put faith in him and he was tearing it down just to protect his brother. It wasn’t the first time and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

“I…”

“Enough. Stop covering for your brother.”

“Michael! Look, Sam, Dean, come on. I don’t care who stole it, I want to know why.” Chuck pleaded, desperate for something much stronger than coffee but it was only eight in the morning.

“It’s a habit. I don’t sleep well without something to protect me. Guess it’s just ingrained. I’m so sorry, Father. I wasn’t thinking… New place, new people. I just wanted to feel safe.” Sam hoped that everyone believed the lie. Judging Chuck’s sigh and the way he hung his head at the confession, and that Michael actually looked sheepishly away from Sam, he was willing to bet they bought it.

  
“I see… Sam, I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through, but you are utterly and completely safe here. No one will harm you or your brother, and whilst you’re here, we consider you part of our family. Please, don’t steal anything else again. Or you, Dean, for that matter. If you can both promise me that, then we will forget this ever happened.”

Sam and Dean shared a look, and both nodded. This seemed to please everyone, and breakfast went on as usual. Later, Chuck drove both the brothers and Michael over to the church, the silence heavy and tense.

 

* * *

 

**NOW**

 

The church is small, made with old stones with a winding gravel path leading from the road. It’s on the outskirts of the town, built on a hill and surrounded by trees, some of which have been cut down to make space for the cemetery.

It’s quiet out here, so still that Dean can imagine he’s staring at a picture. But then the wind picks up, blowing dead leaves and snowflakes across the ground in front of him and he’s suddenly brought back to reality, like being dunked in freezing cold water.

The church is completely empty, since its doors open at half-eight. One lady is already walking up the same path Father Shurley drove. Speaking of the priest, Chuck is currently unlocking the simple side door and walking in.

“Sam! Dean!” Michael calls out, jerking his head in the direction of the door. He’s dressed all in black, just like his father. The anger seems to have died down and now Michael is just disgruntled, though he’ll soon have to fake that everything’s alright for the locals.

Dean nods, following the eldest son into the cold church. The part they walked into is a corridor made of basic plaster walls painted an off-white. It spans the length of the church with wooden doors here and there. Chuck has already disappeared, likely out into the main part where Sam and Dean don’t have to check out yet. For now Michael is leading them to another door, and opening it wide for them.

“Get dusting. Both of you. The whole church needs a good clean up, and every door here in unlocked so you can clean in those rooms too. I’ll check on you in a few hours.” With that, Michael leaves to join his father.

 

“Fucking hell…” Dean groans, picking up a broom and dustpan. Sam doesn’t move, staring at Dean, waiting for an explanation for this morning. “What?”

“You gonna tell me what happened today? How the hell did you get caught?” Sam asks, checking the door that Michael left through in case he decides to come back.

“I didn’t! Seriously, Sammy, you know me. You think I’d be that dumb?” Sam fixes him with a look and Dean smacks his arm lightly. “I didn’t take anything yesterday. Someone put that under my pillow.”

“Is that how Michael found it?”

“How did you- Never mind, I woke up and he was right there and I felt something beneath my pillow so I grabbed it. Didn’t realise what I was doing, Sammy… I bet he thought I was gonna stab him.” Dean laughs, trying to make the awkwardness go away but he’s stuck with Sam’ bitching face at full power, so he walks off with the broom.

“Dean! Look, I get that you’re embarrassed or whatever, but that means somebody put it there! Could it have been Michael?”

“No. I don’t think so. He was genuinely scared. Maybe Gabriel? The kid seems like a prankster. He doesn’t want us here.”

“Really? You guys seemed to be having a good time last night.” Dean remembers the way he helped the honey-haired boy out and how later, they’d laughed together, watching TV later than anyone else.

Michael would have had plenty of time to plant it there, but that fear was real. Dean wouldn’t forget that look for a while. Gabriel had gone straight to bed at the same time as Dean, and Dean hadn’t taken a shower until this morning so the room wasn't left unattended.  
Lucifer, though, had gone up earlier. Maybe he’d taken the knife and stuffed it under Dean’s pillow. He could have just visited his brother’s room, maybe gone there under the pretence of fetching something from his old wardrobe. It was probably him but Dean had no way of proving it. He might as well keep this to himself.

Sam is still waiting on him, but Dean just shrugs, putting an end to the conversation. It doesn’t matter anyways. He’s waiting for his chance to leave with Sam.

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually, after three or four hours of dusting the damn place, Michael fetches Sam and Dean and brings them out to where the locals are filing out. Dean hadn’t even known that there was a sermon today.

Wasn’t Michael’s sermons on a Wednesday? Was that today?

Dean doesn’t pay much attention to the passing days, otherwise he worries he might end up carving a tally of days into the wall beside his bed.

 

The church is lit up with hundreds of candles, plus a few overhead electrical lights that help cast the shadows away. The stained glass windows depict angels and Christ, along with some figures that neither boys recognise. Well, Sam knows more of them than Dean, that’s for sure. There’s hardly any light outside, since the thick clouds hide the sun on this February afternoon, so the images aren’t projected onto the cold flagstones. Sam would love to see this place in summertime; with the church built on a hill, the light can easily access it.  
  
They clean up here too until Sam goes back to clean the rooms. The locals have hardly left a mess since only a handful attended. That’s when Dean notices him.

By the wide, open doors are three people. One of them is Father Shurley, holding a woman’s hands between his own and talking lowly to her. Beside them is a young man with messy black hair and bright blue eyes that meet Dean's.

Dean grins at him, flashing him a smile though he doesn’t expect any response except maybe a sneer or a scoff. But the boy doesn’t do either; instead he smiles shyly back at Dean, before saying something to his mother. She looks at him for a moment before nodding simply, and then he’s out of the doors before anyone can stop him.  
Dean frantically looks around and finds Michael tending to a stack of Bibles, rearranging them in the pews. He half-jogs to the blond, not carrying for the pissed look he gets from the same old lady he saw hours ago.

“Hey Michael?” The blond stands up straight. “I’m gonna go outside for minute, get some fresh air. That okay?”

“Sure. Just don’t leave the grounds.” With that Dean practically runs out of the church, going through the side door so he doesn’t have to speak to Chuck.

 

Outside, the black-haired boy is leaning against the wall of the church, kicking pebbles. When he hears the door open and Dean walking out, he clearly relaxes.

“Heya. I’m Dean.” The hunter holds out his hand and the boy shakes it.

“My name is Castiel. Are you new here? I don’t recognise you.”

“Yeah. Bunking with the Shurley for a while.” Dean doesn’t offer more than that, but Castiel ( _what kind of name is that?_ ) just smiles at his words, not prompting for more.  
“Hey, uh, can I call you Cas?”

“Of course.” Castiel doesn’t admit it, obviously, but he’s secretly glad that the cute boy has just given him a nickname. It makes a nice change from his usual lengthy name that his mother gave him.

“So what’s a young, hot guy like you doing here?” This is how Dean flirts. Straight to the good stuff that will either send Cas running or coming back for more. Cas blushes, cheeks reddening adorably.

“I could ask you the same.” Cas retaliates and Dean barely holds back from punching the air triumphantly. Cas smirks, as though reading Dean’s thoughts and he shuffles a little closer.

Dean decides to lean back against the building too, shoulders brushing lightly, and Dean’s so pleased with himself that he’s managed to flirt with a guy at a church. Not bad.

“So?” Dean prompts, because he was also asking out of curiosity.

“Mother and I attend every sermon. Especially recently.” When Dean gives him a puzzled look, he adds, “My father is in hospital at the moment. Stage four lung cancer. Every doctor is saying he’s going to die. But Mother insists on praying for his soul.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Thank you.” Cas’ eyes meet Deans, and how could he ever stop staring at them? They’re so bright, like a tropical waters but filled with such sadness… Maybe Dean should turn away now. He might end up kissing Cas otherwise, and after hearing that story, he decides that now’s not the time to fuck the poor kid.  
“What about yourself? Why are you here?”

“Volunteer work for the church. My brother and I are staying with the Shurleys so we wanted to pay them back.”

“That’s very kind of you. I don’t know anyone who’d do that.” Cas says honestly, and Dean almost feels bad for lying to him. But it’s not like Cas needs to know the truth.

“Castiel! It’s time to go home!”

Dean spots Cas’ mom beside a white civic Honda, beckoning for Cas with her thin hand. She’s quite well aged, with greying red hair and a pinched face and she doesn’t look pleased at seeing Dean chatting to Cas if her impatient frown tells him anything.

“I have to go. Will you be here on Sunday?” Cas looks so hopeful that it breaks Dean’s heart.

“Yeah, just for you.” He says quickly, adding a smirk hoping that Cas doesn’t take it too seriously. Judging from the smile he gets in response, Cas didn’t notice the way Dean rushed to get those words out, or he‘s too polite to mention it.

Cas smiles one last time, wanting to reach out and place his hand on Dean’s shoulder to convey his thanks but he doesn’t dare in front of his mother. So he walks away, looking forward to seeing Dean again at the end of the week.   
As his mother drives away, he sends Dean one last smile and a little wave that brightens Dean’s day even more.

 

Realising that he needs to carry on with his chores, Dean rushes back inside, going over to the utility closet and then returning to the pews. Michael raises an eyebrow at Dean’s flustered face.

“You took your time.” He observes, voice devoid of any emotion. It’s not that he really cares; the dust isn’t going anywhere and there’s still more than three hours left for Dean to clean the remaining part. So far, he’s actually done a good job. It’s pretty neat and spotless, even better than the caretakers his father used to hire before the financial problems started up again.

  
He decides to tell Dean just that.

It’s almost funny how Dean blushes at the praise, before coughing and putting on a mask of carelessness and shrugging off Michael’s words.

“Hey, umm, do you know a boy named Castiel?” Dean asks as he wipes down the wooden covering’s surface of a long radiator. There’s plenty of cleaning to be done here and he’s glad he grabbed enough rags and another trash bag on his way back. He’s moving pretty fast too, since he doesn’t want too much work on Sunday so he can spend more time with Cas.   
Sam’s covering the rooms Michael pointed out, so he’s busy as well.

“Castiel Novak?” Dean shrugs. Cas hadn’t given him a last name. “Yes, I know him. He comes in here twice, maybe three times a week with his mother. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. He seemed nice.”

“Is that why you ran out like bat out of hell?” Michael jokes, he knows he can’t hold a grudge for too long. Not with the family he’s got anyways. Dean picks up on the lighter tone and relaxes, glad things between them are smoothing themselves out.

“I wanted to say hi.” Michael gives him a look of sheer disbelief but says nothing. “So what’s he like?”

“Well, he’s a shy person. We talk sometimes when he’s free. He’s very intelligent, very academic and just a nice guy. I offer my help to kids who struggle with various things in life; talk to them, give them advice.   
“Cas came by a few years ago alone looking for someone to talk to. I heard about him from my father, so I started working at the church more often to find him. Then one day we talked, and he comes to chat regularly now.”

“I heard about his dad…” Dean says sadly, and Michael nods in understanding but his eyes don’t show any pity. To Dean, the subject of Cas’ dad seems like dangerous territory.

“I told him he could come talk to me.” Dean admits, because why not? He’s sharing plenty with Michael and he’s in a chatty mood which is pretty rare unless he’s bothering Sammy.

“Good. I’m sure he could use an outsider’s perspective. Everyone in town knows each other. We all know the next person’s problems and it’s often difficult to speak your thoughts under such circumstances. It would do him good.”

Dean smiles to himself, pleased to hear the approval rather than disdain. Not that he’d really expected any. Everything he’d thought would happen had been completely wrong so far.  
These people were good and kind, and clearly not the caning sort he imagined whilst waiting to be picked up outside the courtroom.   
And despite what Lucifer had likely done, everything was forgiven and forgotten over a matter of hours. The Shurleys were certainly different but seemingly in a good way.

“You should know I offered the same to Sam. He’s welcome to talk to me anytime, and I believe my words were the reason he spoke yesterday.”

Dean stares at Michael with wide eyes. He’d thought Sam had just gotten over his shock. The last thing on his mind was one of the kids helping him through it.

“T-thank you. Thanks, Michael. I…” Dean’s words falter and he falls silent because the message’s been received loud and clear.

“The same goes for you, you know. You still owe me an apology for this morning, but that doesn’t make me see you in a lesser way. You can always find me if you need anything.”

As Michael says this, he actually stops to look at Dean’s amusingly agape expression. Something tells him that both the Winchester kids are not used to help, and that they likely need to work through their issues. Michael has always been happy to fulfil the friend/psychiatrist role.  
Plus he can’t deny that he’s incredibly curious when it comes to the Winchester family and their mysterious past that led them to live with his own family. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today! 18 at last!  
> Hope you guys have an amazing year, and to start it off is a new chapter.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos. They brighten my day :)

  
The sun’s already set by the time the old pickup stops in front of the house. Gabe and Raphie will be taking a lift home with their friend so Chuck doesn’t drive by the school to pick them up.

Michael’s out before the engine’s even shut off, spotting Lucifer leading one of the horses into the stables for the night, so he follows him in.

His brother is incredibly messy, mud stuck to his boots and jeans, straw clinging to the grey shirt and hair sticking up in odd angles. He’s clearly been very busy if the sweat dampening his hair is anything to go by. All in all, he looks just delicious.

Michael practically pounces on him, only waiting a split second for Luc to bolt the heavy door before he’s grabbing the cotton in his strong grip and pulling his surprised brother into a rough kiss. His brother's forked tongue snakes against his own, and Michael prays that no one heard the treacherously loud moan coming from himself.

All day he’s been thinking of Lucifer, and their usual morning routine of jerking each other off never happened and Michael’s on edge and desperate to feel his little brother pressed against him. Every day Michael wakes first, and will jerk his brother off until Luc wakes up. He's got a kink for that and so does Lucifer, only his little brother prefers to retaliate with his hot, wet mouth. Then they'll kiss, share Mickey's cum between their lips, and then Michael will get up to take a shower. On days where the church is closed, Lucifer will surprise his brother by riding his cock until he wakes Those are the best days if Michael is being honest.

Lucifer takes but a second to register what’s happening. He spins them round so Michael is thrown back against the door with a heavy thud, startling the horse slightly.

“Missed you so much…” Michael whispers against his brother’s lips, hands moving down to rest of Lucifer’s hips.

“Yeah, me too, Mickey… Fuck, you think we got enough time?”

“No. No, father wanted to talk to us, without the Winchesters so we can’t… sorry, babe.” Lucifer groans in frustration and Michael whole heartedly wishes the situation wasn’t like this. Of course he likes the two boys but even one night without his brother made him unable to sleep properly. He was so sad when he’d woken up to find his bed empty. It hasn’t been empty for almost two years.

“Fucking hell… When are they leaving again?”

“A year, you know that. At least we still have some time together…”

“Not enough.”

They walk back silently after one last kiss, Lucifer’s hand barely brushing Michael’s until they reach the backdoor in the kitchen.

Mickey’s clothes have been straightened out and the dust from the door brushed off. No one needs to know. Lucifer, of course, looks a complete mess but that’s from working outside all day, and nobody will question it.

 

Chuck is sat at the kitchen table, already changed into his casual jeans and t-shirt. Just because he’s a priest doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy comfort and finer things liked aged whiskey, which he so happens to be drinking. Dealing with Naomi Novak can be tasking at times, with her high expectations of the Lord’s power.   
If anyone were to ask Chuck what he really thought, he’d say that there was a reason her husband was dying and it wasn’t just the way of life. That man was cruel but karma was crueller.   
But he can’t say that. No, he has to comfort the soon-to-be widow and watch silently as she takes out her anger on her poor son. No wonder the kid ran to him for help. Sometimes, Chuck loathes his duties and his lack of influence. Sometimes he wants to smack a few people upside the head and tell them to open their eyes and see the damage they cause.

Chuck takes another chug of his drink, wincing slightly at the burn though it has long since lost its effects on him. It’s like he’s built up a tolerance. Now, any less than a bottle’s worth and he’s not even seeing double.

 

He hears the door open, the draft whistling in sharply before the door shuts again. Michael comes into view, looking his usual composed self and Chuck says ‘hey’, which he gets a smile and a ‘hello’ for in response, before watching his son disappear upstairs to likely get changed.  
It should bother him how strict Michael is with himself sometime. All the conscious efforts to appear stoic and respectable, it must be all the burden he had to carry for years after Mariana’s death, which Chuck has only recently lifted from his shoulders. His son never seems relaxed, not unless he’s beside Lucifer.

Speaking of his devilish son, the younger blond is carefully placing his muddy boots on the mat beside the door so that he doesn’t track more dirt in. He’s messy as usual, the exact opposite of his big brother, which sometimes provides comical relief to Chuck.   
Lucifer thinks that he’s being clever with all his little rebellions, like the ripped clothes and even the forked tongue.

  
Yes, Chuck knows about that.

The person who’d done the work came in every Sunday, and she’d been more than happy to tell on Lucifer. She’d thought she was being clever too, but Chuck just laughed and asked her if she had done a proper job on the surgery. That had certainly surprised her. Chuck still thinks she'd expected him to disown his son or something similarly drastic  
Plus there was also the fact that Lucifer hadn’t spoken for two or three weeks and then had an unexplainable lisp for months.

“Hey Dad.” Luc greets with a smile, going immediately over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of Pepsi reserved only for himself and Gabriel since they’re both sugar freaks.

“Hey Luc, everything alright?”

“Uh huh, Lilith is eating properly again.” Luc states, before chugging straight from the bottle. Chuck doesn’t bother to tell him off.

“Oh good. She likes you the most, after all, no wonder she’ll listen to you.” The white mare is getting on in years, and recently she’d stopped eating which had scared everyone. She’d been around years before Mariana passed, and she had been his wife's gift to Lucifer. At her age, she has become troublesome and the vet is on Chuck’s speed dial.  
Thankfully, Luc has a way with the animals, especially her.

“That’s true. She tried to eat my hair today, _again_. Anyways, everything go alright today?”

“Yeah. The usual flock. Naomi can by again, with Cas. Apparently her husband’s facing surgery in a week and she’s demanding answers. I’m running out of stuff to say to her. He’ll die for sure and then she’ll come back and- Sorry, I didn’t mean to rant.”

“No worries. I get it.”

Chuck smiles briefly at his son. Believe it or not, but there was a time when Lucifer refused to even speak to his father. Arguments formed out of nowhere, as though they were both trying to start fights, and that was probably true for his part. After Mariana’s death, he turned away from his family, mourning her the most and hating himself for never seeing what had triggered her suicide. Even to this day, he has no idea why she took her own life.  
He’d blamed himself first, ignoring his children for months like they didn’t even exist. Michael had taken over, though, the brave lad, and raised the kids by himself.

Then, after a particularly drunk night, Chuck got violent. He’ll forever hate himself for hitting Lucifer. The boy had just wanted to check in on him and Chuck, well, he didn’t even remember what he’d done. It was only the next when he saw the blackeye and how Luc coward away from him that he realised.   
After that, he stopped drinking. And he saw what he’d done to his family.

Lucifer changed after that night. He was more volatile, skipped class most days and failed his exams because he never showed. He hid at the church where Michael was working.

Then the fights began. Lucifer was so angry, not thinking straight, and he blamed Chuck for his mom’s death. After that, everything set him off, and Chuck followed in his steps, arguing back just as fiercely.

Michael tried so hard to keep the family together, and to raise the children by himself. Lucifer had done so at the beginning but abandoned the role after _that_ night.

 

Eventually, Chuck left. 

He actually left his family and went to Las Vegas to forget everything. He lost most of his money, even what he won, slept with countless men and women until he just felt numb.

He’d ruined the memory of his beloved wife and the family they’d raised together. It was actually a man that set him back on the right path. Only a brief encounter in a dingy bar outside of the city limits but he’d managed to coax a name from the guy: John Winchester.   
Said guy had lost his wife too, drowned himself in finding her killer and he hated himself for dragging his kids everywhere with him. He didn’t regret it one bit, though, said his kids were safer now than they’d ever been.  
John had been intoxicated but still had the thought to scroll his number down onto a napkin and hand it to Chuck.

Chuck went back to his motel room, and passed out. The next day he found the napkin in his jacket and thought someone had hit on him, but then he remembered that heartfelt conversation with the scraggly man. He saved the number on his phone.

That prompted him to call home, where Michael picked up whilst preparing the kids’ lunch. They hadn’t spoken in months and Michael, to this day, has never sworn so much in his life or yelled so hard and loud. In all honesty, Chuck felt he deserved worse than his eldest screaming about his responsibilities as a father.  
The yelling stopped and they actually spoke for several hours. Gabe and Raphie spoke to him for a bit, chatting about school and the friends they’d made over the summer holidays. Michael had taken them to Disneyland with the money he’d made working three jobs too.  
Michael was turning out to be a better father than Chuck, and hearing his own kids talk about Mike’s treat and all the cool things he did with them to distract them from their absent father…

 

It woke Chuck up and he made himself sober up properly before driving back home. Michael almost didn’t let him in. Almost. He still remembered the hesitation in his son’s eyes before he stepped aside and let his father in.

Everyone had changed so much. Gabe was growing up fast and Raphie had grown out her hair past her shoulders. They cheered when they saw him, running over with open arms and asking whether he’d brought any presents home from his trip.  
Yeah, Michael even covered for him as well as cleaned up his mess.

The one who’d changed the most, though, was Lucifer. The fifteen year old refused to even look or acknowledge his father. He refused to be in the same room alone and when Michael had eventually told Chuck, he found out that Luc had to retake his entire year.

Another three months passed, and Chuck decided that enough was enough. He’d called John once and exchanged numbers so that they could chat on occasion. It was rare to get a call from John anyways, but the man’s advice helped.   
John said Chuck needed to talk to his son. So he did.

It wasn’t easy, especially when Luc also wanted Michael next to him all the time when Chuck wanted his attention. But they talked, and both apologised, though Lucifer had done nothing wrong in Chuck’s eyes. It was all his own fault.

After that, things evened out and got back on track. Years passed, happy and full of life, until he got a call from John Winchester. They’d kept contact and it came as no surprise to find that John was in trouble. Except this was serious.

John had used his only phone call to get Chuck to take the kids in. Anything to keep them out of prison and juvie. So Chuck did just that.   
He must have pulled in hundreds of favours to change the verdict, to make sure that the boys would have a safe home. Granted, it was only for a year, but that was up to Chuck to decide whether they stayed longer or not.

He likes Sam and Dean, and despite this morning’s fuss, the boys did well and tried to fit in the night before. Hell, even Sam clearly put effort into his appearance, and Dean had been eager to volunteer for the fixing of the cars.

 

“Father?”

“Dad?”

Both his eldest sons’ voices call out and Chuck realises he’d spaced out remembering the last five years. He looks up from the empty mug and smiles at them, waving a dismissive hand.  
The two boys share a look but say nothing, sitting down at the table across their father.

“Mickey said you wanted to tell us something?” Luc prompts, leaning back in his seat in an oddly graceful way.

“Uh? Oh yes, about Sam. What do you think about enrolling him at the high school? Dean’s already graduated, but Sam still has two years to complete.”

“It’s only fair to let him finish his education, father.”

“Nah, let the kid be.”

“Luc, seriously?”

“What? Since Dad’s asking, I’m guessing the judge didn’t mention Sam’s education! I mean, did they?”

“Nope, not a word.” Chuck admits. The judge didn’t care about the kids, mostly John since he was their father and therefore he’d raised them badly. Which he had, but Chuck wasn’t exactly the world’s greatest dad either, despite his mug's slogan.

“Well, I think he should. He’s sixteen, let him finish his education and then he can do whatever.”

“Of course you think that. You’re the golden boy!” Luc retaliated, earning himself an elbow to his ribs.

“Mike, Luc. Enough. Okay, let’s just ask Sam what he thinks. Where is he anyways?”

“He went up to his room.” Michael provides, already getting up to go fetch the boy. Luc rolls his eyes and waits for him to come back, sitting silently at the table, pulling his phone out and scrolling through his texts to see if he missed any during the day.

 

* * *

 

Sam sits at the kitchen table, glancing between everyone in confusion. _Surely this isn’t about the knife again?_

“Sam. What do you think about going to high school? There’s one in town and since you've got two more years…” _Wait, what?_

“Do I get a choice?” Sam asks warily. He’s surprised at the conversation topic, but he would honestly rather not have to go through another school, joining in more than halfway through the year. It’s likely he’d have to wait until September anyways.

“Of course. Both Gabe and Raphie go there, so you wouldn’t be completely alone. But I don’t know if you’d prefer home schooling or whatever. Up to you, Sam.”

“I’d prefer not to, right now. I’ve lost count of how many schools I’ve been in, and by now, I’ve already surpassed my classmen. Plus, they’d tell me to join next year. I mean, everyone’s done their practice exams.” 

“So, you’re fine staying here at home, and working?”

Sam nods, because it’s a much better alternative to being the freak drifter again. He could wait until September to join, then he'd finish school. Maybe this way he could go to college like he wanted and get a proper education. But he'd wait. He and Dean are to stay for a year, and maybe Chuck will let them stay longer so he could finish.  

He’s shocked by the choice Father Shurley gives him, but like hell is he throwing that away. Home schooling seems like too much hassle and he’d much prefer working at the church or even here for the time being.

“Alright then. Good to know. By the way, how did you like the church?” Chuck asks casually.

“I think it’s beautiful, especially the stained glass. The one with the Archangel Michael is stunning.” Chuck grins brightly, absorbing the praise and looking at his eldest son who looks more than amused. Everyone has that reaction when they first walk in.

“Well, I’m more than happy to hear that. You’ll be there next Sunday. Until then you can work outside with Luc and Raphie.” Lucifer shrugs, and reluctantly gets up to go to his room since the conversation is clearly over.

Sam watches how Michael follows a minute or two later, taking the same path as his brother. It’s interesting how close the brothers are, similar to himself and Dean.

“Alright, well, I won’t keep you any longer. Mike will find you when dinner’s ready.” Sam nods, thanking the man for his generosity though he doesn’t need to go into detail. Sam’s more than happy that he and Dean have been forgiven even though they’re not the ones to blame.   
He doesn’t imagine that Chuck would be pleased to hear them accusing his son without any proof.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam leaves the kitchen and spots Raphael in the living room. He walks in making sure to knock on the door so he doesn’t startle her. He’s been trained to walk as silently as possible, and many times he’s scared the crap out of people.

She turns, brushing her hair out of her face and tossing the strands over the right shoulder. Her ears are adorned with simple pearl earrings. Although she’s a very pretty girl, the glare she throws at Sam startles him, making him completely ignore her attractive features and he can only focus on the venomous look in her maroon eyes.

“You live here now. No need to knock.” Her voice is void of any emotions, but her eyes clearly hold anger towards Sam.

“Habit.” Sam shrugs off, leaning casually against the doorframe. Last night, she didn’t speak a word to anyone but Michael and that had been to pass food to her.

“What do you want?” She stands in the middle of the room, stock still, and refraining from leaning against the back of the couch. Raphie prides herself in being strict with herself and the people around her, for the sake of her reputation and self respect.

“Just wanted to say hi. See how you’re doing.”

“Why?”

Sam is taken aback by the question. Why does he need a reason? _This girl is weird…_

“Do I need a reason?” Raphie’s glare eases but her eyes still hold a certain sharpness that doesn’t suit her delicate doll face.

“I suppose not. I imagined that you would hide in your room. Michael told me you and your brother were very helpful today, after committing a sin.”

“A sin? Oh… you mean-”

“Did no one ever teach you any manners? You are not just a simple guest. You reside here, and that means obeying the rules and respecting our family. I am surprised father didn’t send you away.”

Sam grits his teeth, fists clenching by his side but it’s the way that Raphael smirks at him, as though she knows exactly which buttons to press, that actually calms Sam down. She wants a fight, and Sam will be damned if he’s gonna let her crawl under his skin.

“You’re right.” He says, smiling at her and shaking his head to move his hair away from his eyes. Her smirk drops comically fast and she scoffs, tensing her whole body as Sam sees right through what she’s doing.   
“I am sorry for what I did. So is Dean. But Father Shurley has forgiven us and we can all move on from this. Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

Sam is still smiling innocently, trying hard to keep his smirk away so that he can at least walk out with his head held high. Raphael says nothing else, seething where she stands so Sam leaves to go up to his room.  
Once he’s clear of her sight, he bursts out laughing. The sound surprises him. He hasn’t laughed in a long time, and considering his age, it’s almost a scary thought. 

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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